Ember, Spark, Flame
by Honeybee1111
Summary: The prequel to Family Secrets. Trip and T'Pol head to Vulcan after Terra Prime. How did they come together when everything seemed destined to tear them apart?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Star Trek is not my intellectual property. This is for fun and not profit. _

_Rating: This version will be PG-13, with more grown up version published in the decon chamber at TriS. But this opening chapter is the same. _

_A/N: This is a prequel to my long imaginary season 5 story Family Secrets, though it can be read without having read that one. It takes place immediately following Terra Prime. The idea that TnT go to Vulcan to bury baby Elizabeth came from Martin & Mangel's finale fix book "The Good that Men Do" but the plot and manifestation is all my own. _

_This was also inspired by the July 2010 word prompt, Sparks. And thanks to my wonderful beta, Lady Rainbow. _

* * *

_New paint smells the same, no matter what planet it's from_, thought Trip as he inhaled the cool, recycled air of his cabin.

Trip stared at the ornamented, painted ceiling, which was just one of the strange features of the eerie, Vulcan ship. The ship was new, less than a year old, but the Vulcan script that adorned the ceiling and walls was ancient. T'Pol had told him that it was sacred text from the _Kir'Shara_, and even she needed concentration to understand it.

The ship's gravity was heavy, so heavy, it threatened to pull him into to sleep. Thankfully, he could at least adjust the temperature inside his own room so he wasn't sweating half to death. Vulcan ships were usually about as comfortable as the decon chamber.

When he got sick of the Vulcan characters, he turned on his side to the face the window and its whirring stars. The ship was fast, especially for one of its size. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be cloistering himself in his cabin this way. Captain Valrick had given him an open invitation to observe and even assist in engineering, and he would have loved to get a look at a small warp drive that could maintain warp 4.5 for long periods.

But to get to engineering, he would have to pass by sickbay. Sickbay was where Baby Elizabeth's body was. He didn't know if the Vulcans, especially T'Pol, would be offended by his desire to visit her lifeless body.

These Vulcans, Syrannite monks of some kind, had gracefully offered to transport T'Pol and himself to Vulcan so they could bury their daughter in peace, far from the prying eyes of the media and a scandalized public. The majority of the emotional outpouring had been positive, but some had been as ugly as Terra Prime had predicted it would be. Anonymous letters had arrived, some celebrating Elizabeth's death and others calling Trip a race traitor and a pervert. T'Pol had received a few messages in Vulcan which contained similar sentiments, only expressed in reverse and more logically.

There was a chime on the door, and he sat up and put his feet on the floor.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, and T'Pol, dressed in Vulcan robes, entered. Her face appeared serene, but not only did he sense her deep grief, he recognized it in her eyes. He wondered if emotion had always been visible in her eyes, and he had only learned to see it there or if she had begun to _allow_ him to see it.

"I came to see if you were comfortable," she said.

"I'm starting to appreciate what it must have been like for you those first weeks on _Enterprise_, everything set to Earth comfort."

"I had adjusted during my time on Earth," she said, "and I wore weights in my boots to help me adjust to the gravity. Getting used to heavier gravity is more difficult."

Trip noticed T'Pol shiver in the cool air of his cabin. He got to his feet and grabbed a throw from the chair in the corner. As he gently placed it around her shoulders, she reached up and brushed his hand with hers. The gesture created a faint spark between them, but she casually removed her hand and the moment passed.

"It's funny," he said, "I don't remember having a hard time adjusting the last time we went to Vulcan. . .but circumstances were different then. That was a happy journey, at least on the way there."

The last sentence came out sharper than he'd meant it, and she winced.

"I'm sorry," he continued, "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"Our previous trip to Vulcan holds many pleasant memories for me," she replied, "at least before Koss arrived."

_Funny_, he thought, _I'd give anything for the day she married Koss to be the worst day of my life again_. That pain seemed so light, so shallow compared to the loss of Elizabeth. At the time, he couldn't imagine anything hurting more.

She sensed his thoughts, he could tell. He sensed hers as well. She was remembering the blissful days they spent on the transport to Vulcan, when everything felt so hopeful. She had believed that their journey would mark a new beginning for them, rather than an end. If had only been able to sense her thoughts like this back then, if they had known a bond had formed between them in the Expanse, he would have fought harder for her.

After a moment's silence, she spoke.

"Do you wish to dine in your cabin or among the monks in the mess hall?" she asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

"I need to get out. I'll eat with the monks." He paused. "Will you be there?"

"Yes," she replied, "I shall see you there. The evening meal is served at 1900 hours."

"See you then," he said, and she nodded at left his cabin.

He inhaled sadly after she was gone. Before the Terra Prime craziness, they were starting to get back on track. They'd been together - really together - for a few glorious weeks. The discovery of their bond had sparked a fire between them that he wouldn't have thought could burn out. But Terra Prime and. . .and Elizabeth's death had practically smothered the flame. Sure, there were embers. . .the bond was there. . .but he couldn't imagine it ever being like it was before.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Rating: PG-13 for this chapter

A/N: Thank you LadyRainbow for the great advice.

* * *

T'Pol looked around her white space, expectantly, but she was alone. She had hoped Trip would join her there on his own so they could talk more freely, even though she hadn't summoned him. She simply wished that he would come on his own after she had seen him in his cabin. She closed her eyes and reopened them to see the flame that sat on her meditation table.

She so wanted to reach out to help Trip in some way, but she didn't know how. She fully comprehended his grief—right from the night Elizabeth died—but she still wasn't sure how to interact with him. They were bonded, their minds linked in shared sorrow that was incomprehensible to anyone else, especially given the bizarre circumstances of Elizabeth's life and death. Yet, even though the Syrannites considered the matebond to be a marriage, she had kept her distance. Thanks to their mind link, she knew that seeing her reminded him of Elizabeth and flooded his mind with pain. The pain then flowed into her own mind, and she could barely suppress it. She could not bear causing him pain, not after all she had put him through, and moreover, a human untrained in the art of meditation might not be able to withstand exposure the to full fury of her Vulcan grief, if she did finally lose control of it completely.

Ironic, she thought, that our previous journey to Vulcan was so peaceful. Those days, less than a year ago, seemed as though they were centuries in the past.

_T'Pol opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented by the Vulcan gravity and heat of her cabin. As she inhaled a pleasant human scent, however, memory returned. She realized that she was under the blanket, while a sweating Trip lay next to her naked and without a covering. She was unclothed as well, as they hadn't bothered redressing after their sexual relations and instead drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. Clearly, despite his assurances to the contrary, Trip was not fine with the Vulcan temperature of the cabin. _

_T'Pol sat up and watched the rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful expression on his face. She had touched and kissed nearly every part of his body, yet it gave her pleasure just to observe him. They had been lovers for some time now, but she had never seen him sleeping like this. _

_After what was probably nearly an hour of enjoying the sight of him, he stirred and his eyes groggily opened. He smiled slightly. _

_"Hey," he said, "It's not morning yet, is it?" _

_She shook her head. "We retired early, if you recall. It's shortly after 0100 hours." _

_He stretched and sat up, then playfully pulled the blanket off her body, tossing it on the floor in a heap. _

_"That's better," he said as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She relaxed against his cool body and soon was enjoying the feel of his strong hands lightly caressing her all over. "I didn't imagine the best part of the trip would be the Vulcan transport," he said softly, "not even when you broke it to me that we'd be sharing your cabin." _

_"The purser raised an eyebrow when I told him you would be staying with me," she replied, "Although I don't know why, it was the only logical choice given the rest of the staterooms were booked." _

_Trip's mouth covered hers, and she shivered slightly as his tongue explored her mouth. Her body melted into into his. After awhile, he broke the kiss and traced his fingers over her ear and down her jawline. _

_"Are you sure you shouldn't tell your Mama about us?" he asked, "I, mean, she's gonna wonder why you brought me." _

_T'Pol sighed and gazed into his eyes. She couldn't imagine taking a mate other than Trip, and part of her very much wanted her mother to know that. But human mating customs were different. They certainly didn't rush into lifetime commitments, that was certain. It wouldn't be fair to put Trip under the pressure that would come by arriving as her mate. He viewed their visit as a vacation, and after the trauma of The Expanse, he deserved a chance to relax. _

_"No," she finally replied, "I would rather have a peaceful visit. If it becomes necessary to tell her about us in the future, I will write a letter. That is customary."_

_Trip gave her a skeptical look, but he did not reply. Instead, he pulled her on top of him. She straddled him and began returning his caresses. _

_"Well then," he said, "we'll have to make the most of the five days we've got before we arrive." _

_"Agreed," she whispered._

T'Pol stood up and headed down the bright hallway to the turbolift, passing several monks on the way. Thanks to their Vulcan discipline, none of them stared, which was a relief. She took the lift to the top deck and entered the meditation atrium. It was a large, domed space that contained a circular Vulcan garden, including sand, rocks and desert plants. As he had promised, Captain Valrick was there. He was seated on a cushion in the center of the garden, his eyes open as he stared up at the whirring stars above.

"I spent 30 years in a monastery on T'Khut," he sighed, "I don't think I'll ever adjust to blurred stars. I like them as I expect to see them. It was difficult enough to adjust to the configuration of Earth's sky. Even before, when I served on a starship, I couldn't meditate near a window."

T'Pol glanced up at the skylight. At this point, she was more accustomed to the whirring than she was a planet's skyscape. She found the meditation garden, whirring stars and all, soothing and peaceful. The space, along with the monk's calm presence, helped her control her maelstrom of emotions. "I would again like to express my gratitude that you have chosen to return to Vulcan sooner than you'd planned," she said.

"Gratitude isn't very Vulcan-like," he said, but before she could explain, he continued, "but perhaps that should change now that our people are changing. I think Surak would be in favor of gratitude."

T'Pol was silent. She had only begun to understand the changes that were coming to Vulcan society thanks to the discovery _Kir'Shara_, and she wasn't comfortable expressing an opinion.

"You did not come here just to express gratitude, T'Pol, even you have not become that human."

She clasped her hands behind her back and approached him as he got to his feet. She did not wish to make the monk uncomfortable by even a telltale sign of emotion. She spoke plainly and carefully.

"What I am about to tell you is in strictest confidence and requires the revelation of personal information," she said, "You will understand when I tell you." He nodded and she continued. "Commander Tucker and I have formed a matebond. It has allowed us to share our grief during this difficult time. However, I do not believe it's in his best interest to remain bonded with me. Do you know a way the bond could be safely severed?"

If Captain Valrick was shocked by this news, it did not show on his face. "Has Commander Tucker expressed a desire to be free of the bond?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No," she replied, "but I wish to give him the opportunity to be free of me, if the bond can be safely broken."

Valrick clasped his hands behind his back in a gesture that mimicked her own.

"The two of you have appeared very much mated to me," he replied, "So much, I confess being surprised when you requested separate quarters. You are bonded. You have had a child together, regardless of the circumstances. What makes you think he would want to sever the bond?"

"He did not choose to bond with me. He did not choose to have a child with me. Humans value freedom of choice. The brief life of our daughter inspired a strong desire in me to remain bonded with Mr. Tucker, but my wish to be his mate should not be forced upon him. If he senses my desire, he might feel obligated to stay with me."

Valrick appeared to ponder her words for a few moments before speaking. "Your daughter made you believe that creating a family with a human was not only possible but desirable. You wish to remain bound to him, but you think he will resent you for trapping him as well as causing him pain."

"Yes," she asserted, "He must be free to make his own choice of a mate and not be compelled by a bond that is alien to him."

Valrick sighed. "Matebonds are dangerous things to break. They don't form by accident or by force. Bonds evolve when a couple is open to one, and become stronger through difficult times. However, if you both truly desire the bond to be severed, it can be done. However, it will require you to go through Kolinar and have your memories of him suppressed. That is, if you wish to be able to take a Vulcan mate."

T'Pol swallowed. She wanted none of that, but she needed to let Trip go, even if it destroyed her. It was for his own good. "I will discuss this with Commander Tucker," she replied.

Valrick nodded. "I would advise waiting until after your child's interment to broach the subject. Once the funeral is over, the human will be able to think more clearly and make an informed decision."

T'Pol nodded. Valrick's advice was wise, and she would follow it.

* * *

Trip arrived to the commissary promptly, just as the monks were arriving. The long room had communal wooden tables and was lit with candlelight. The space vaguely suggested a monastery, albeit a contemporary, space-faring one.

The ship's chief engineer approached him. "Would you care to dine with me, Commander? I would be interested in hearing about your ship's warp technology and sharing information about ours."

Trip bit his lip to hold back a smile. The Syrranite Revolution sure as hell had changed Vulcan attitudes about sharing technology. "I'd like that."

Soon, Trip found himself in deep conversation with the engineer while dining on a meal that weirdly combined bland Vulcan food with spicier vegetarian options from Earth. Apparently, the monks' chef had learned out to make tabouli and hummus. A few minutes into the meal, he looked up and saw T'Pol arrive with Captain Valrick.

The old Syrannite had been a friend of her mother's, a former Starship captain that had been living in a secret Syrannite monastery for decades. Now that his order was out of the closet, they had decided to do some exploring and check out the universe's infinite diversity for themselves. The Sol system was their first stop, and so they had been nearby when the Terra Prime incident happened.

Trip's eyes met T'Pol's and they acknowledged each other with a slight nod as she sat down with Valrick. Trip turned his attention back to the engineer, but his mind remained on T'Pol for the rest of the meal.

After agreeing to spend some time in engineering the next day, Trip excused himself and headed back to his room. T'Pol had disappeared before he could speak to her. Part of him wanted to seek her out and offer her whatever comfort he could, but he feared his human emotions would only hurt her. He knew she was having a hard enough time dealing with her own sorrow, let alone hers.

Halfway to his cabin, he ran into Captain Valrick. He took a deep breath. He had heard that Valrick had deep knowledge of Vulcan . . .stuff. Stuff that Trip needed to know about it.

"Good evenin', Captain. I wanted to thank you again for taking T'Pol and me to Vulcan. It means a lot both of us."

The older man paused at that, before responding. "It means a great deal to us to be able to help T'Pol and you during this difficult time."

Trip paused this time. "May I talk to you about something else? It's kinda personal. . ." his voice drifted off.

"I was just heading up to the meditation garden before retiring. Most of the monks prefer to use it in the morning, so it should be empty. Would you like to join me?"

Trip nodded and followed him to the atrium with the rocks and Vulcan cacti. Weird that they managed to make a starship smell like a desert. Desert smells made him uncomfortable, even pleasant ones, but he didn't say so.

"What can I help you with, Commander?"

"First," replied Trip, "You need to promise me that this goes nowhere else. What I am about to say is _very_ personal. On Earth, priests and monks have to keep things to themselves."

"This conversation will not be shared," replied the monk as he gestured to one of the benches.

"All right," said Trip as he sat down, "T'Pol and I have one of these Vulcan mating bonds. You know what that is, right?"

It occurred to Trip that he didn't know if these monks had wives or not. From what little he knew about Vulcan mating cycles, an Earth-style monastic life was probably impossible.

"I know what that is. What do _you_ want to know?" replied Valrick as he sat down next to Trip.

"Well," said Trip slowly, "The bond formed between us by accident. I was wondering if there was any way to break it. . .I mean, if it was up to me, I'd keep it. Lord knows I'd keep it, despite everything. Our daughter, Elizabeth, she made me think T'Pol and I could have life together — one that felt . . .right to me. . .but she was pressured into one marriage she didn't want. . .and she shouldn't be forced into another, especially not with a human who blasts her with his emotions all the time."

Valrick was quiet, but he looked at Trip very . . .oddly. Vulcans were difficult to read under normal circumstances, but Valrick was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma.

"I love her," said Trip, "and if I have to give her up so she can be happy or content or whatever you Vulcans call it. I'll do it. I did it before, I can do it again. She doesn't deserve anymore hurt."

Valrick sighed. "It seems to me that neither of you deserve any more pain, of that I am certain. But to answer your question, it is possible to sever a matebond if both parties _truly_ wish it to be severed, though there might be unpleasant side effects, especially for a human."

Trip exhaled a relieved breath. Even if it turned his brains to scrambled eggs, he'd do it to help her. He couldn't bring their daughter back, but he'd help T"Pol find some peace.

"Good," said Trip.

The monk stood as though to leave, but he stopped. "Commander, I would advise you to wait until after the funeral ritual to discuss this with T'Pol. She'll be more in control of her emotions then and thus more capable of making the logical choice. You both need to consider the matter in detail before proceeding."

With that, the old monk turned on his heel and headed toward the door.


	3. Chapter 3

_Rating: PG in this chapter._

_Disclaimer: See Chapter One_

_A/N: Thank you so much to Aquarius and Crystalswolf for all their valuable help on this tricky chapter. Also note, this chapter has TnT in the aftermath of Baby Elizabeth's funeral, and therefor there is necessary sadness. Also, T'Pol reaction was inspired by what Old T'Pol said in E2 about her needing an outlet for her emotions. _

* * *

Just before they had arrived, Valrick had asked Trip about human funeral rituals so he could incorporate some into Elizabeth's ceremony. Trip was such a wreck he could barely remember any, but he managed to blurt out something about flowers, and Valrick had made certain that cut flowers adorned the walls of the cave around where Elizabeth would be buried.

Most of the flowers were Vulcan, but Trip recognized daisies, pansies and even a few tiny roses among them. He wound up grabbing a bunch of daisies and putting them atop Elizabeth's tiny casket before it was gently pushed into the wall of the catacomb next to her grandmother's large one. The Vulcan rituals were simple, efficient and didn't seem cold to him, and thankfully, the ceremony did not last long.

On the way, out, he plucked one single rose and gave it to T'Pol without a word. After she accepted it, she looked into his eyes. Something sparked between them, and he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he held back.

The monks were gone, and they stood alone in the crypt where Elizabeth's tiny casket had been interred. He had kept it together through the funeral rites, thanks to T'Pol sending him some of her Vulcan control through their bond. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable in front of the Valrick and the others or let his emotions trigger hers.

"What shall I do with the rose?" asked T'Pol softly.

"Anything you want. . .but my Mom would press flowers between the pages of books to preserve them. I used to think that was silly when we had a stasis chamber, but she was old-fashioned that way."

T'Pol nodded. Her lip quivered, and her hands shook as they held the flower. Trip knew her control was coming undone, as was his right along with it. Or maybe it was the other way around.

He didn't know what to do. If she were human, he'd have pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried it out, but he remembered her words . . .long ago words, it seemed. . .about Vulcans not being afforded the luxury of letting go of their control. He feared that physical contact with him would cause the bond to open up a floodgate between them, one neither of them could handle.

"Is . . .is there any way I can help you?" he asked, his concern for her momentarily pushing aside his grief.

She blinked at the question, and she appeared to consider it. She tried to speak, looked down at the flower and then into his eyes. He sensed she was distressed beyond what was normal, even under the circumstances.

She reached up with her free hand and touched his face, giving him a jolt of bond energy. Then, suddenly, the energy was gone as if she had sucked it back into her mind, away from him. He desperately tried to search her mind for something, anything that would assist him.

"Talk to me, hon," he whispered, "Tell me how to help you."

A small trickle of green blood began to flow out her nose, and she removed her hand from his face and touched the blood. She examined her fingers for a moment before her eyes rolled back in her head.

He leapt forward and caught her in his arms as she collapsed forward. He gently set her on the floor, realizing to his horror that neither of them had brought a communicator. He set her head back to stop the nose bleed and began shouting for help, hoping that one of the monks had lingered.

The green hue had drained from her face, but she still gripped the rose in her hand. The thorns had pricked her fingers so that they too bled, and Trip stared down at the green blood dripping off the stems. Worse, he wasn't sensing any emotion flowing from the bond, only a blank, empty sensation.

In the distance, he heard footsteps coming toward them. He hoped help would arrive in time.

* * *

T'Pol groggily opened her eyes, squinting at the bright light. She looked around and saw nothing but white around her. She sighed deeply, and somewhere distant, she thought she could hear Trip's voice, but she couldn't make out the muffled words. She yawned and stretched, and she slowly sat up.

Much closer, she heard a different sound. A soft, agreeable noise. She got to her feet, and she walked toward it. Soon, she found a bassinet and inside it lay Elizabeth. The baby wiggled absently and made pleasant gurgling noises. T'Pol reached down and took the baby into her arms.

"I was told you were dead," whispered T'Pol. She wanted to soothe her daughter somehow, though it rapidly became clear that Elizabeth was comforting her rather than she giving the comfort.

It didn't matter. T'Pol cradled the child, enjoying the sound of her heartbeat. She closed her eyes and again thought she heard Trip's voice. Trip. . .she knew she needed to find him. He needed to see Elizabeth, but for some reason she couldn't think of where to look for him.

* * *

_As soon as the cabin door shut behind him, Trip's control dissolved into pearls of laughter. He first looked down at the floor then slowly up at T'Pol, who had seated herself down in one of the chairs and was removing her shoes. Her face showed no emotion, of course, but he recognized a twinkle in her eye that indicated she was just as amused as he was. _

_"Baby," he said as his laughter calmed, "I didn't catch half of that conversation. . .but you wanna tell me what that old lady meant by attending to your physical needs? And why she thought you were so lucky to have me?" _

_T'Pol raised an eyebrow._

_"She asked why we were traveling together, and I told her that I required you to assist me with my research on human kinetics." _

_Trip grinned. He was pretty sure that that elderly Vulcan woman knew exactly what T'Pol meant by human kinetics, and he was pretty sure T'Pol knew she did, too. Vulcans sure loved their euphemisms. _

_They may not lie, but they sure do like to dance on top of the truth. He bit his lip, but she knew exactly what he was thinking. _

_"I told the truth. I've always found my friendship with you to be valuable in understanding humans, and this journey has been particularly. . .enlightening." _

_Trip sat down next to her and started to take off his own boots. She wasn't wrong there. Their night together in The Expanse had been wonderful, but they'd learned a lot more about each other in the past few days. Not having death and destruction constantly hanging over their head sure helped in that area. _

_"We've still got two more days," he replied. _

_"And we'll have the return journey as well," she said as she began to undress. Trip grinned, and he realized he was truly happy for the first time since the Xindi attack. _

Trip opened his eyes and returned to the present, where he sat in a big, comfortable chair next to T'Pol's hospital bed. The immaculate building, constructed of stone and obviously quite ancient, didn't feel much like a hospital, although high tech equipment was evident as orderlies moved blinking devices from room to room.

An attendant, who had been checking T'Pol's vital signs, nodded curtly and started to leave.

"Wait a minute," said Trip, "How is she? What's going on? Nobody's told me anything."

The attendant blinked at him.

"There's nothing to tell, Commander," he replied, "A neurological specialist has been summoned, and Lady T'Pol's medical records have been requested from Starfleet. Beyond that, I can say no more, since you are not a family member."

Trip sighed.

It had been almost ten hours, and the Vulcans had no answers. Trip was exhausted, sad and worried. He knew he needed sleep but resolved to fight the need until the specialist arrived and could tell him something, anything about what was wrong with her. The low light wasn't helping matters either. When the physicians came to examine T'Pol's comatose form, the lights in the room brightened, but otherwise they were dim.

In the shadowy light, T'Pol looked pale but oddly peaceful. Somehow, instinctively, Trip thought she must be escaping her grief. Wherever her mind was, she had found a respite from the turmoil of the past few weeks. That had to be part of this, but he didn't even know if he should suggest that to these Vulcan doctors.

Valrick appeared in her doorway.

"The specialist is here, Commander," said Valrick, "He needs to examine her."

_About time_, thought Trip as he got to his feet.

"I guess I'll wait outside," replied Trip.

The old Vulcan monk's expression was serene and kindly, and he directed Trip to a waiting area - where Trip waited.

* * *

The Vulcan specialist exited T'Pol's room with Valrick at his side and was walking away when Trip spied him from the waiting area. Trip stood and caught up to the doctor and the monk.

"How is she? Do you know what's wrong with her?"

The doctor looked at Trip, but he did not immediately reply. He glanced over at Valrick, and then he spoke.

"I can only speak with members of her family regarding her condition," replied the doctor.

"She's got no immediate family," replied Trip, "Her mother's dead. . ." His voice trailed off. He wondered if the fact that he and T'Pol had had a child would give him any pull at all. He looked a Valrick, who gave him another peculiar look.

Suddenly, Trip spoke without thinking.

"I've got a bond with her. . .one of these telepathic bond deals. Doesn't that count for somethin'?"

The doctor glared at him and gave Valrick a pointed look.

"Syrannite superstition might influence some these days, but it does not influence me."

The doctor turned to walk away, and Trip moved to follow but Valrick stopped him. The doctor disappeared down the corridor.

"You won't convince him, Commander," said Valrick, "He's suspicious of the new order. However, since the revolution, we Syrranites have some influence over the courts. We consider a mate bond a marriage and therefore in our eyes, T'Pol is your mate."

Trip's heart started to beat faster. That was good news, at least he thought it was good news. He had a sinking feeling, too. _Would T'Pol trust him to make decisions for her? Would she want him to step forward as her mate?_

"But. . ." Trip couldn't finish.

"Listen to me, Commander. Since T'Pol has no immediate family, the doctor can pursue whatever treatment he sees fit. He spoke to me about it, as I was counseling her before her collapse. The only reason I can reveal what he said to me is because _I _consider you her mate."

Trip nodded. "Go ahead. . ."

"I'm not sure how much she has told you about her medical history, but she has suffered a great deal these past few years. She's had a series of neural traumas that have made emotional control difficult for her, and the intensity of yesterday's events finally became too much for her. Her neural pathways simply could not handle the stress of suppressing her emotions."

Trip nodded slowly. _Damn her_, he thought. _She should have . . .said something. Done something. He would have helped her. _

"The doctor has a treatment plan that I do not believe is in T'Pol's best interest. He wishes to use nano-technology to remove the memory engrams that are evoking the problematic emotion. This would mean wiping her memory of the past four years, including her relationship with you, Commander, as well as her service aboard the _Enterprise_. After that, she would be placed in a Monastery and put through the process of Kolihar."

Trip closed his eyes. The monk's words were like a kick to the stomach.

"She wouldn't want that. Despite everything, I know she wouldn't want that."

Valrick continued, speaking faster. "I have another idea. Although, I'm not sure it isn't just as radical as the one the doctor suggests, but please listen. It's rare that a Vulcan loses a child, and even rarer if they lose one without a mate with whom to share the grief. Whatever _some_ may believe, mate bonds do exist and they perform a serious function. The sharing of grief helps neutralize the danger of suppressing such intense emotion."

Trip thought about the moments before T'Pol's collapse, when he had sensed her pulling back from the bond. . not wanting to let the emotions flow.

"If the bond were fully opened between you," said Valrick, "it would give T'Pol an outlet for her emotions. I believe this would take the pressure off of her neural pathways and allow her brain to heal. However, that action will make the bond between you two permanent. Since she is unconscious, I would assist you in performing a meld which would open the bond."

Trip closed his eyes. He let this information sink in and he breathed out to calm himself. His immediate instinct was to implement Valrick's plan. He knew that T'Pol wouldn't want to forget everything that had happened in the last four years. . .especially Elizabeth. But to permanently become her mate without even asking her, that thought didn't sit well at all.

An idea struck him. They had communicated through this bond over light years. Was it possible that the bond could help him talk to her while she was in a coma?" He looked over to T'Pol's room.

"Can you make it so I can talk to her? I need to ask her what she wants."

"Commander," replied Valrick, "Time is of the essence. . .and . . ." The monk sighed. Then he nodded. "I can try to help you talk to her, but we must hurry."

Trip headed into her room, and Valrick followed. She lay there so peacefully, Trip was almost reticent to disturb her.

"This may not work, Commander," said Valrick, "You need to be prepared to make a decision if it does not."

Trip nodded as Valrick gently placed Trip's fingers on T'Pol's temple. Valrick then placed one of his hands Trip's and the other on Trip's temple.

"If it comes to that, I will do what I have to do" said Trip, "I'll decide for her. But we'll try this first."

Valrick nodded, and Trip's eyes snapped shut. It was all white.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Rating: PG-13

A/N: Thank you Crystalswolf and Aquarius for all your help.

* * *

Trip opened his eyes and found himself in the white space where he had spoken to T'Pol across all those light years. But this time, she wasn't there. Weirdly, he sensed she was nearby, somewhere. He waited for a few moments, expecting her to appear.

When she didn't, nervousness started to creep up his spine.

"T'Pol?" He said her name softly, questioningly. He was met with silence.

Finally, he spoke loudly. . .then practically shouted.

"TPol! T'Pol, where are you?"

His own voice echoed through the white space, but he still didn't see her. He didn't know what to do.

* * *

T'Pol sat on a chair in her white space and gently rocked Elizabeth. The child continued to make contented noises, and she reached up and grabbed a tiny fist of her mother's hair and pulled.

T'Pol gently undid the infant's grip and whispered soothing things to her. The child's big eyes stared up at T'Pol, and although it was illogical, it seemed to T'Pol that Elizabeth wanted to speak.

"She's very beautiful," said a voice.

T'Pol looked up and saw her mother standing before her.

_This isn't right,_ thought T'Pol, _I know T'Les is dead. _

"Yes, she is beautiful," said T'Pol softly.

"She's also worried about you," replied T'Les, "She's afraid you're going to stay here because of her, instead of returning to the other side."

T'Pol looked at her mother, and in the distance, she heard Trip's voice. It was louder than before.

_"T'Pol! "T'Pol, where are you?" _

"He'll want to see her," said T'Pol as she hugged her daughter to her chest.

T'Les shook her head. "He won't be able to come this far, but you can go to him. You can leave Elizabeth with me."

T'Pol closed her eyes. She couldn't imagine letting go of Elizabeth. If she did, she wouldn't see her again. That she understood.

"I'll take good care of her," said T'Les, "and you'll see her again. . .some day in the far future."

T'Pol didn't say a word, she just clutched Elizabeth closer. T'Les looked in the direction from which Trip's voice was coming.

"Commander Tucker is worried about you, too. You don't want to leave him behind, do you?"

T'Pol shook her head. T'Les leaned forward and without even thinking about it, she handed over her daughter to her mother. T'Les stepped back, and T'Pol stood up.

"Live Long and Prosper, daughter. Now go."

T'Pol brushed her daughter's head with her hand, and she suddenly felt at peace. Elizabeth _wanted_ her to go.

"Goodbye," she said to both her mother and her daughter, and she turned and walked toward Trip's voice.

* * *

Trip heard T'Pol's footsteps first, then she appeared. She didn't look as pale as she had been in the hospital room. She looked healthy, although not as peaceful. She also looked sad, and she wasn't trying to hide it. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but she wasn't okay. She was dying, and he needed to help her.

"T'Pol?" he said softly.

"It is agreeable to see you," she replied, and she lifted her fingers up and held two of them out him.

He could do nothing else but respond. He entwined two of his own fingers in her. The bond sparked between them, and he knew she was truly grateful to see him.

"Good to see you, too. But I'm here for a reason. We need to talk," he said as they undid their fingers.

"We're talking now," she replied.

He sighed. "That's not what I meant. Do you remember what happened? You collapsed."

She nodded slowly.

"You're in a coma," he began, and he soon filled her in on the two options for her treatment.

Her lip quivered, and she looked around nervously. "What do you want?" she asked.

_Damn_, he thought, _We could go around in circles like this forever. _

_"_We're not going around in circles," she replied, "It's a relevant question. I do not wish to force you into anything. You must desire to be with me. I will not force you to retain the bond."

"How'd you. . .right, this bond thing," he mumbled, "If we do keep it, you're gonna have to tell me how to block you. I . . .I. . ." his voice trailed off. _She wanted to keep the bond. Just as badly as he did. He just knew._ "You want to keep it, don't you? You always did."

She nodded. "Yes, of course. I thought you wished to break it. You seemed so angry about it before, when we were searching for Elizabeth. . ."

She looked so sorrowful at that moment, it nearly broke his heart. "That doesn't mean I wanted to break the bond. . .I just didn't. . .I still don't fully understand it. But you can help me with that. Are you willing to do that?"

She nodded.

"And another thing," he continued, "There's no halfway. No changing your mind. Once I claim you as my wife. . .that's it. I'm going to expect you to _be_ my wife. I can't keep this bond to help you get over this coma and then have you shut me out. I just _can't_. I'd rather give you up and have you forget me. But if you'll agree to accept me as your mate. . .fully and completely, I promise you won't be sorry."

T'Pol made a gesture, as if she wanted to reach out and entwine her fingers with his again. But she pulled back, and she was trembling.

"It will not be easy," she whispered, "We come from two very different cultures. We will need to compromise with each other."

He nodded. She sounded like she was willing. He started to hope, really hope, this thing would work out.

"You should know," she continued, "My emotional control has been permanently damaged. . .that will affect both of us."

He couldn't stand it anymore, he stepped forward and pulled her into a deep embrace. It took a few moments, but she placed her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.

"It's okay," he said, "I'm sure Valrick will help us deal with this thing. . . .Is . . .is that a yes?"

She nodded.

"Yes," she said.

Suddenly, it was as though the bond opened up, he felt enormous relief coming from her. . .and something more. He felt love. He felt it as surely as if she had said it.

"I love you, too," he whispered in her ear as he hugged her closer.

She flushed green in her cheeks, but she wasn't unhappy. He decided to see just how willing to compromise she was. "Say it back," he said, "That's customary, among humans."

She looked up at him, and her heart beat faster. "The bond makes verbal expression of emotion unnecessary."

"For Vulcans," he whispered gently, "Humans like to hear it. So, say it."

He caressed her gently and waited. He knew she'd say it; she just needed time.

Finally, she took a deep breath. "I love you," she stated.

He smiled, and more and more of the bond energy flowed. He recognized how vulnerable saying the words made her, but he also sensed that she got pleasure saying them. "Say it with my name," he whispered, "Say, 'I love you, Trip'".

She responded quicker, this time looking up at him. Exhilaration poured forth from her mind and made his heart beat faster. She was ready to accept the challenge. "I love you, Trip," she said.

He grinned and kissed her as lovingly and gently as he could. He had momentarily forgotten how sick she was and that this wasn't. . .well, it was real, it just wasn't . . .he didn't know what it was. All he knew was that things were going to be all right.

* * *

The Vulcan Neurological Specialist arrived to find a vexing scene in Lady T'Pol's hospital room. The human, Commander Tucker, had joined her on the bed and they were sleeping peacefully in each other's arms. The monk, Valrick, sat in the corner looking out of the window.

"I'm afraid you cannot proceed with your treatment plan, doctor," said Valrick, "The human is her mate, and I will testify to that in front of the medical board as well as in the courts."

The doctor approached Lady T'Pol and check her vital signs. Strangely, she no longer appeared in a coma but rather in a normal, healthy sleep. The doctor had never seen anything like it. It was fascinating.

The doctor looked over at Valrick, who he knew was quite respected in the new order. The doctor recognized the way the world was moving, and Valrick's testimony would hold weight. The human was Lady T'Pol's mate, and therefore, the law would not allow them to be parted against their will. Whatever regime was in charge, the right of a husband and wife to be together remained.

The doctor raised his eyebrow at his sleeping patient. "At least," he thought, "she appears to be recovering. I might even be able to present a paper on this case at the interspecies medical conference on Andoria next year."


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1_

_Rating: PG-13 - there's an even more - intense version of this chapter at Tris in decon. _

_A/N: So, finally the last chapter arrives. Thanks to Crystalswolf and Lady Rainbow for betaing, and Aquarius for proposing a word challenge that gave me a framework for this story, as well as her advise on how to do the ghost sequence. Now, on to the sequel to Family Secrets. _

* * *

T'Pol's arms were around Trip's neck as he carried her up the stairs of T'Les's house, which was now hers. She breathed in and out, enjoying his human scent mixed with the familiar Vulcan air. His breathing was labored, as his ability to lift her had been compromised by the planet's gravity.

"This is unnecessary," she said, "I could have made it up the stairs myself."

Trip didn't say a word as he carried her into the large, master bedroom, which he had already prepared for her arrival. He laid her down gently and helped her slip under the silken covers.

"You heard the doctors. They think you could get vertigo while climbing stairs, they don't want you to risk a fall. So, it's bed rest and no stairs for the next two weeks," he replied while tucking her in.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "I was asleep for two days, and I was in the hospital for eight more" she said, "I do not require more rest."

Trip brushed a hair out of her face and smiled. "Now, tell me how is it logical to ignore doctors orders? The doctors say that your neural pathways heal while you're asleep, and they need more healing. So, you're going to be on a regimen of rest, sleep and meditation. . .with a little neuropressure thrown in for good measure."

T'Pol sat back on the pillows and folded her arms. Trip slumped down in the chair near the window. He appeared to need more rest than she.

"I will need to get downstairs tomorrow," she stated.

"Valrick said he'd perform the ceremony up stairs if you weren't feeling up to being carried downstairs," replied Trip smoothly.

"I'll be up for it," she said, "I don't wish to be married in my bedroom."

"We're already married," replied Trip in a pleased-with-himself tone.

He was correct. As far as Vulcan was concerned, they were married. But a ceremony was required to make the Earth license Trip had obtained for them valid.

"Have you sent the Captain a message yet?"

Trip bit his lip. "Still working on that one. I doubt it will come as a surprise to him, but I'm going to wait until the ceremony is done and the license filed. I don't want him to take any heat for not trying to stop us."

T'Pol sighed. Starfleet did not normally require its personnel to report nuptials, but their situation was different. Their marriage was bound to present diplomatic and political complications for Jonathan Archer, and they both were prepared for Starfleet either removing them from duty on _Enterprise_ or attempting to separate them. If Starfleet did the latter, they were both ready to resign their commissions. What they would do after that, they hadn't decided. Trip had insisted they would be welcome in Mississippi near his parents, and they had T'Les's house as well.

T'Pol looked around the room that had been her mother and father's. The fact that this room now belonged to Trip and herself was odd, or as Trip would have said, bittersweet. She had had most of her mother's things packed away into storage but a few aesthetically pleasing items remained: a vase, a hand mirror, an image of one of her foremothers. These things made the room feel familiar, like home. She knew it was unlikely she and Trip would spend much time here, but she hoped eventually he too would see the house as his home. She wondered briefly what the room would look like after they had occupied it for many years.

"A penny for your thoughts," said Trip.

She looked at him puzzled by the obvious idiom. He smiled. "What are you thinking? It's an expression. A penny is a small, old-fashioned coin."

"I remember seeing the term referenced in English language literature. It had little value."

Trip sighed "That's the irony of the expression. . .my grandma used to say that. I don't think she'd ever seen a penny outside a museum."

"I will give you my thoughts without payment," said T'Pol, her voice teasing, "I was wondering what this room will look like after we have lived here for a significant amount of time."

Trip looked around the room. "There'll be more stuff. I'll bring some stuff from Earth next time we come. Paper engineering books. Pictures of my family."

T'Pol closed her eyes. As illogical as it was, she imagined the room with a mixture of Human and Vulcan possessions and, to her surprise, children's toys. Not the logic puzzles traditionally given to Vulcan children, but the kind of dolls and plush animals she'd seen human children covet. The images were pleasing.

She attempted to open her eyes, but they fluttered and closed again. She inhaled a deep breath and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Trip surveyed the garden and the chairs he had set up around a makeshift alter. Much like Elizabeth's funeral, Valrick had suggested Trip add a few human touches to the ceremony. To that end, he had put candles on the altar and tied flowers to the back of each chair. He had also obtained a set of simple rings from a local jeweler, who had raised an eyebrow when Trip explained their purpose.

Trip regretted telling the jeweler the truth, and he wasn't sure why he had. Even though they pretended to be above such things, Vulcans could prove as gossipy as his grandma's quilting friends. News of the wedding would get around, of that Trip was certain.

He and T'Pol had decided to keep their marriage quiet, making no formal announcement either on Vulcan or Earth and telling only select family, friends and Starfleet. The events of Terra Prime had made their relationship a symbol to those both supportive and opposed to them. Neither T'Pol nor Trip wanted that. They just wished to live their lives in peace, without the pressure of symbolizing anything.

Yet, deep down, Trip wondered if he had told the jeweler the truth because he wanted people to know. He was proud of the fact that together, he and T'Pol, had not let the bigotry and insanity of Terra Prime tear them apart. Part of him wanted people to know that.

His thoughts came back to the present as he heard faint footsteps at the top of the garden stairs, which lead to the main house.

Valrick appeared at the top, wearing formal robes. For himself, Trip had chosen to wear the same human suit he had worn to Elizabeth's funeral, rather than dress like a Vulcan. He hadn't said anything to T'Pol, but he wanted this small ceremony to be as different as could be from the last wedding he had attended on Vulcan.

T'Pol, thankfully, hadn't invited any of her distant relatives to the wedding. She hadn't said anything, but Trip had gotten the impression that most of them didn't approve of the annulment from Koss, never mind what they would have thought of her taking a human mate.

As far as Trip knew, Valrick, the engineer from his ship and a couple of the other monks would be the only guests. However, this proved incorrect. At the top of the garden stairs, Trip saw Soval . . .and to his shock, T'Pau standing there.

The new leader of Vulcan descended the garden stairs, looking serene and stern at the same time, something Trip still thought was a pretty neat trick. He gave her the Vulcan salute, which she returned.

"I didn't even know you knew about today," said Trip to both of his surprise guests.

T'Pau raised her eyebrow. "Valrick has kept me informed of your situation. My condolences on the death of your daughter. I also wish you and your mate well."

"Thank you on both counts," replied Trip formally, still curious as to why the leader of Vulcan would take the time to attend a ceremony that was ultimately a human legal formality.

"I wished to express to Starfleet and the United Earth Government my support of your union. My presence as one of the official witnesses should articulate that," replied T'Pau as though she had read his mind.

Trip wondered briefly if she had read his mind, but then he figured she probably just logic-ed out what he'd been thinking. For himself, he wondered why T'Pau would support the marriage between a human and a Vulcan. He knew better than to assume it was out of kindness. Somehow, it fit her agenda that he and T'Pol had married each other.

He made a mental note to ask his wife if she knew. "Good to see you, Soval," said Trip.

"Likewise, Commander," replied Soval, whose face was placid. His eyes, however, were warm, "I'm pleased I could witness today's events."

_At least_, thought Trip, _I believe Soval is happy for us._

* * *

Later that afternoon, Trip carried a tired but radiant T'Pol down the garden stairs. To his pleasure, she chose to wear simple Vulcan robes but in white rather than purple. The silk shimmered in the afternoon sun, and she had tied her hair back with a matching scarf. She moved slowly, but she was able to walk with him down the short aisle under her own power.

T'Pau, Soval and several of the monks from the ship witnessed the ceremony, which included vows in both Vulcan and in English. Valrick officiated and Trip thought he sensed both satisfaction and mischief from the old monk as he electronically signed the license and transmitted it to the human embassy and to Earth with the electronic signatures of the bride, groom, Soval and T'Pau. Under the circumstances, it would be very difficult for anyone to claim the ceremony had not taken place or wasn't legally witnessed.

Afterwards, the small party left the bride and groom alone. T'Pol was still recovering, and receptions weren't part of the Vulcan tradition. If Trip wanted a party, he'd throw one on Enterprise in a few months.

Instead, Trip had carried her up the garden stairs and into the living room, where he intended to spend a quiet evening with his wife.

Trip and T'Pol sat across from one another in two big chairs in front of the window, drinking a bottle of Napa Valley white wine that had been in the house since their previous visit. He had taken off his jacket, and she had taken off her shoes and taken the scarf off her head. T'Pol looked serene, staring out at the desert sunset, as if it were any other day. Some of the bronze color had even returned to her cheeks.

Trip inhaled, and his heart started to beat nervously. They'd done it. There wasn't any turning back. Starfleet would know soon enough, as would the Captain. Come what may, he and T'Pol had made things official.

"So, Mrs. Tucker," he asked, "How do you want to spend your wedding night?" Truthfully, he expected to carry her up to bed so she could sleep.

"I thought humans traditionally engaged in sexual relations on their wedding night. This serves to make the marriage fully legal, doesn't it?" she replied.

Trip grinned and bit his lip. "Most brides aren't suffering from neural trauma. The doctors said you need rest. We'll consummate the marriage when you're feeling better."

Her face remained placid. "The doctors also advised us to work toward strengthening the bond, as it will speed my recovery. Sexual relations will strengthen our bond."

Trip sensed a streak of that Vulcan stubbornness in her. She intended to get what she wanted, and he wasn't inclined to say no to his bride. Nor was he inclined to hurt her either. It was a puzzler. He sat back in his chair and thought about what to do.

She glanced over at him, eyebrow raised and still sipping the wine. Meanwhile, Trip formulated a plan in his head. One he was suddenly looking very forward to carrying out. He inhaled a slow breath and sipped his wine until it was finished, and he leaned forward and set down his glass.

"Normally," he said, "Our relations can get a little. . .vigorous, darlin'. But maybe if we both show a little restraint, somethin' can be worked out."

She nodded in acknowledgment, "How so?"

"You'll have to follow my lead, do as I say - and not do anything that will raise your heart rate too much or give you vertigo. In other words, we take it slow. Real slow."

She looked at him, clearly fascinated. "Shall we go upstairs, then?" she asked.

Trip shook his head as he stood up. He took her glass from her and helped her to her feet. He led her to the soft, woven rug in front of the fireplace and helped her down to her knees. As the sun had set, the temperature had dropped enough so Trip turned on the fire, albeit to a low setting. The flames not only heated up the room, they bathed it in an ethereal light that made his wife look breathtaking.

"You wish to have sexual relations in the living room?" she asked, a green blush appearing at her cheeks.

"I sure do," he replied as he got to his knees as well, "The tile on the kitchen floor isn't that comfortable. . . And carrying you up stairs in this gravity zaps my energy. And I'm going to have to do most of the work. . ." his voice trailed off as his finger traced her jaw.

Her eyes widened, and she glanced over at the stairs, almost longingly. He didn't even need the bond to know that sex on the living room rug wasn't very Vulcan, but she wasn't married to a Vulcan, now was she?

"Now, remember," he whispered as his hands moved to the sash at her waist, "You won't exert yourself."

She inhaled and closed her eyes as he unfastened her garment and pulled it over her head. To his delight, he discovered she wasn't wearing anything beneath her robes. Part of him still wanted to put the breaks on and make her get some rest, but that part of him was no match for desire that had gripped him. The bond, now unfettered by resistance, flowed between them as they shared all the intense emotions of the past weeks.

Afterwards, he cradled her in his arms and whispered into her eye how much he loved her and how he intended to take care of her and see that she got well and strong. Eventually, he felt strong enough to carry her upstairs where they both were able to sleep peacefully, secure in the bond that could not be broken. Whatever the future held, whatever Starfleet, Earth or the Vulcans were going to throw at them, they both knew they would face it together.


End file.
